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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230524">omg, they were zoommates!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonereedy/pseuds/lonereedy'>lonereedy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Never Met, Baking, COVID-19, COVID-19 is mentioned but nobody in this fic has the virus, Covid-19 Related, Happy Ending, I'm Sorry, Keeping up even if sometimes it makes me cringe XD, Love at First Sight, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not a crack fic, They work for NASA, Tweek is thirsty, Virus, Visual Strategist Tweek, Working from Home, Yoga, Zoom - Freeform, a little spiciness, and they were zoommates, craig is horny, creek meeting during the COVID-19 pandemic, dorky Craig, dorky Tweek, engineer Craig, life in quarantine, lockdown - Freeform, lots of cheese, meet cute, not the food, please don't read if this may be triggering for you, quarantine fic, self-indulgent silliness, social distancing, the fic nobody wanted or needed, this is actually very silly, video conferencing</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 18:47:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,757</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24230524</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/lonereedy/pseuds/lonereedy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig Tucker isn't exactly enthused about having to work from home during the COVID-19 pandemic, but at least he can spend the next few months working on his project remotely. He lives his life in comfortable-if-boring moderation, content with his own company. He doesn't expect that will change during lockdown.</p>
<p>Then he meets his assigned partner, Tweek Tweak: a neurotic, talented blond who enjoys baking, yoga and playing anime theme tunes. </p>
<p>*~*~</p>
<p>Or, the fic where Craig and Tweek go from social distancing video calling co-workers to friends to lovers.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>197</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>omg, they were zoommates!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello! I've been in a creek mood for the last several weeks. This fic was inspired by <a href="https://ao3commentoftheday.tumblr.com/post/613719965388947456/of-course-i-love-and-they-were-quarantined-but/">this infamous Tumblr prompt</a> and I started writing it for my own amusement. It was supposed to be a fluffy 2k one-shot that evolved into this 10k cheese fest.</p>
<p>I was so torn about whether to post this one, but since I'm struggling with my other fics, I figured it might be fun to share it?! I was waiting for a creek fic to be written using this prompt, and haven't seen any so far. If anyone else has written one, please share!! XD</p>
<p>Also, please forgive any errors regarding Zoom, NASA and their jobs. I spent a lot of time trying to research it all, but it's obvious I don't know what I'm talking about!! ^^</p>
<p>Update: The lovely AnimatedNydia has drawn fanart for this story!!!! Here's <a href="https://lonereedy.tumblr.com/image/627185045237579776">Tweek</a> and here's <a href="https://artnstuffsouthpark.tumblr.com/post/628168509337288704/craig-is-here-lonereedy-i-think-it-looks-okay">Craig</a>. I love them so much!!! Thank you again for drawing zoommates fanart and letting me share them here &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://imgbb.com/"></a>
  
</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ l o g i n ~*</p>
<p>Craig Tucker surveys his surroundings with a touch of apprehension. This will be his workspace for God knows how long, but it’s <i>still</i> his living room. The cosy, navy sofa is temptingly close, the flat screen TV he saved up months for is only a button away and then there’s the rhythmical little sipping noises coming from Stripe’s cage that makes it all too <i>homely</i> for an office environment.</p>
<p>He supposes it’s better to be comfortable during the lockdown, and there’s certainly worse places he could be stuck, but Craig’s never been the type to bring work <i>home.</i> This is going to be a challenge.</p>
<p>He tilts his blinds for a bit more privacy, makes himself a drink and then spends another ten minutes re-positioning his desktop lamp.</p>
<p>By the time he’s happy with the set-up, it’s nearly eight o’clock, so he takes the plunge and switches his laptop on. Already there’s a few e-mails from colleagues catching each other up to speed. Then, right on the dot at eight, an e-mail from his boss settles itself at the top of his inbox. It’s addressed to the whole team.</p>
<p>There’s a spreadsheet attached, too. Craig takes the time to read through the e-mail carefully. Since the hands-on part of the project is temporarily on hold, they’ve all been assigned different tasks for the short-term. It’s disappointing but unavoidable given the circumstances. Craig’ll miss heading into Langley and actually working on the small-scale model, but having something to do will at least keep him occupied. Apparently their new roles have been pre-assigned on the spreadsheet.</p>
<p>Craig quickly opens it up and navigates to his name.</p>
<p>
  <i>Tucker, C. | Revise data for life-size Space Hatch TVCS3/5 and communicate with assigned visual strategist partner | Contact details: T_Tweak_10282015</i>.
</p>
<p>
  <i>Tweak?</i>
</p>
<p>The name’s unfamiliar but Craig’s worked with members of the visual team before when they’ve created story boards and pamphlets for the public. It hasn’t always been fun and games, though. He’s worked with a fiery redhead who didn’t always see eye to eye with Craig and spent half of their call time having a hissy bitch fit over one thing or another. On the flip side, he’s also worked with some super creative and interesting people. Craig just hopes Tweak is the latter and isn’t a selfish asshole.</p>
<p>Space Hatch TVCS3/5 is Craig’s latest engineering project. He’s already poured hours of research into it, taking accurate measurements into account and sketching messy diagrams with an assortment of color-coded labels.</p>
<p>Even without the lockdown, he’d probably be asking for input from the visual team at some point this week. He needs someone with the skills to visualize his data and help him to build a life-size model so they can test out the VR tools. His boss knows what Craig needs for the next stage of the project, so hopefully this Tweak is an expert in this field.</p>
<p>Craig wiggles his mouse to make sure his online status stays active, finishes his tea in three large gulps, checks on Stripe, and then shoots a quick e-mail back to confirm he’ll get in contact with his partner today.</p>
<p>He’s halfway through another e-mail when his phone starts vibrating across his desk. He spies <i>Mom </i> on the caller ID, and for a moment he ignores it and keeps typing, watching from the corner of his eye as the phone starts spinning in circles and shaking like one of those toy dogs they sell for cheap on the street markets.</p>
<p>Finally, he gives in and picks up, “Morning mom.”
</p>
<p>“Craig,” she says, a touch exasperated, “so you are home.”</p>
<p>Craig knows she’s being sarcastic and throws it back at her, the Tucker stoicism keeping his tone equally flat as he replies, “Where else would I be right now?”</p>
<p>“Aren’t you working?” She asks, although the unspoken <i>how are you?</i> still reaches Craig anyway. The Tuckers aren’t big on words and his mom’s never really been the type of woman to give more than half a fuck about anything. She loves her husband and her kids, sure, but it’s not in a touchy-feely, emotional kind of way. Even now, in the midst of a crisis, she sounds just as level headed and unshaken as ever. It’s something Craig admires about her.</p>
<p>“Yup,” Craig pops the p in a poor imitation of Tricia. His mom either doesn’t notice, or decides it isn’t worth bringing up. Probably the latter.</p>
<p>“I’ll be doing a grocery run shortly,” she says, all no nonsense, “we’ve haven’t got any toilet paper thanks to your father-” she pauses, and Craig assumes she’s flipping him off, “and the City Wok napkins are an unsuitable replacement. I’m not sure they’re even paper? So, for God’s sake Craig, make sure you ration the essentials.”</p>
<p>“Got it,” Craig switches the phone to his other hand as he grabs a carrot for Stripe. She’s already whistling in anticipation.</p>
<p>“I know you’re an adult, Craig,” She continues, a little softer in tone now, although no-one else would even notice the change. Craig waits patiently for her to finish her sentence, but she doesn’t. There’s just a comfortable silence, and Craig uses the natural pause to put his phone on the kitchen counter, switching it onto loudspeaker so he can peel and slice Stripe’s carrot.</p>
<p>“Don’t leave it too late to get stuff,” he says between chops, “Tricia will flip her shit if you have to keep using those shitty napkins.”</p>
<p>His mom laughs at that, “You really are our son,” she says proudly, “we’re on lockdown but that doesn’t mean we shut down.”</p>
<p>“Stripe sends her love,” Craig adds, not wanting to be the one to give in this time.</p>
<p>His mom makes an affirmative noise, “Stay safe, Craig,” is all she says before she ends the call.</p>
<p>Craig feels some relief that his own planned grocery shopping had taken place before the pandemic sent people in their droves to stock up on the holy trinity of hand soap, toilet paper and pasta. He’ll need to stock up on some minor groceries in a few days, but he isn’t doing too badly. Especially when he compares his luck to Clyde, who called him in a tizzy the previous evening after a failed trip to Walmart.</p>
<p>Stripe tucks into her carrot as Craig settles back into his chair. He opens his TVCS3/5 files and spends the next hour double checking his statistics.  After devouring a quick sandwich, he decides he’s delayed the inevitable long enough.</p>
<p>It’s time to call Tweak.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ i n b o x ~*</p>
<p>Tweek Tweak’s having a productive morning. Since five o’clock, he’s been hunched over his desk, working on a sketch of the suit he’s been tasked with. He’s on coffee number four at this point, <i>black, no sugar</i>, and his paperwork covers his entire desk, window ledge and bed. They’re images for a museum and require as much detail as Tweek can provide.</p>
<p>And detailed drawing is something Tweek is really, really good at. He’s always been an arty child, determined to step away from his family’s coffee business to pursue art in a meaningful and philosophical way; but even in his wildest dreams – and Tweek’s imagination has taken him to some fascinating-bordering-on-bizarre places – he never imagined he’d be working for NASA.</p>
<p>He prefers to work on paper before working digitally. He’s a fast worker, so his supervisor allows it. Tweek’s told that his digital art is as good as his penmanship, but he never quite believes it. The rough sketches have a place in his heart.</p>
<p>His little jerks and twitches rarely interfere with his work. He’s used to the way his body tenses before an involuntary movement, and raises his pencil a fraction off the paper until the feeling has passed, his scribbling continuing as if it wasn’t interrupted at all.</p>
<p>Tweek briefly looks up at his laptop screen, at the e-mail messages that have slowly and steadily increased to a frightening <i>64 unread mails.</i></p>
<p>64.</p>
<p>
  <i>Jesus.</i>
</p>
<p>There’s a mixture of enquiries from colleagues, head office announcements, charity drives, health and safety updates and the odd spam message. Tweek’s sweating just looking at the number, his fingers shaking as he tries to at least open the important ones.</p>
<p>Tweek makes it to eleven thirty before his stomach berates him for missing breakfast. He’s down to 58 e-mails now. Still not brilliant, but sometimes Tweek finds it hard to stay on top of his inbox. He just gets so many every day. He always reads messages from his supervisor or key clients, but there’s always more e-mails coming in than he has time to dedicate to them. He likes to organize his folders and move messages to their rightful place, but then it’s so easy to just…forget about them.</p>
<p>He’s taking a sip of coffee when an unplanned video call pops onto his screen with the unfamiliar username of <i>C_Tucker_09202017</i>.</p>
<p>“Gah!” Tweek jolts hard enough to spill coffee down the front of his shirt. It’s cool enough not to cause any discomfort, but Tweek’s more concerned about the unrecognized caller.</p>
<p>
  <i>Maybe they’re calling the wrong person?</i>
</p>
<p>He tries to reason with himself. <i>That can happen, right?</i></p>
<p>The call keeps ringing as Tweek checks his Zoom groups and scans his inbox for anything from someone called Tucker. Nothing. His supervisor hasn’t informed him of any incoming Zoom video calls, and there isn’t an instant message asking for a call or a meeting invite.</p>
<p>Tweek stares at his screen, willing the caller to get the message and hang up.</p>
<p>Tucker gives up eventually and Tweek sighs with relief. He takes the opportunity to get up and stretch out his cramping legs. By the time he’s cooked an omelette, inhaled another coffee and taken a bathroom break, his nerves have calmed a little.</p>
<p>His fingers are itching to pick up his pencil again, so he puts the call to the back of his mind and loses himself to his art.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ c o n n e c t i o n ~*</p>
<p>Craig gives it an hour, figuring that Tweak must have been too busy to answer at the time. There isn’t really anything more Craig can do without the input of a visual strategist, so, like any other self-respecting adult, he spends his time scrolling mindlessly through his social media, remembering to wiggle his mouse every few minutes just in case his boss is checking on them.</p>
<p>When he’s finally had enough of Clyde’s quarantine photos, he decides to try Tweak again.</p>
<p>The call rings for longer than Craig deems suitable, but this time Tweak answers.</p>
<p>Or, sort of answers.</p>
<p>Craig isn’t prepared for the green, coffee-stained shirt covering the entirety of the webcam as a soft voice worries in the background.</p>
<p>“Oh God, oh Jesus, what-?”</p>
<p>The shirt’s rumpled and two of the lower buttons aren’t even fastened correctly, revealing a flash of winter-white skin that Craig struggles to tear his eyes from.</p>
<p>
  <i>This is our first day working in isolation and this guy’s already dressed so sloppily?</i>
</p>
<p>Craig clears his throat, “Erm, Tweak? This is you, right?”</p>
<p>“Y-yes, I’m Tweek,” the figure finally sits down and Craig can’t help but stare at the shock of blond hair and wide, hazel-blue eyes.</p>
<p>
  <i>Oh. My. God.</i>
</p>
<p>Craig hopes it isn’t obvious that he’s staring. It isn’t his fault! This Tweak guy is unconventionally attractive and <i>totally<i> Craig’s type; a pale face dotted with freckles, an oversized shirt hanging off lithe shoulders and the cutest button nose Craig’s ever seen.</i></i></p>
<p>Dammit. He just <i>has</i> to be blond. Craig’s weak for blonds.</p>
<p>“I’m Craig. Craig Tucker…Your engineering partner.”</p>
<p>Tweak looks like he’s drawing a blank, his cute nose twitching like Stripe’s as he wonders what the hell Craig is talking about.</p>
<p>“Didn’t you read the e-mail?” Craig asks, watching in confusion as Tweak’s right eye briefly snaps shut and the blond starts trembling in his seat.</p>
<p>Craig feels a little bad, <i>and Craig never feels bad</i>, for making Tweak look so upset. He looks to be shakily going through his inbox to get up to speed.</p>
<p>“I, uh- I’m a bit…<i>nghn</i> behind on my e-mails, sorry,” he finally admits, his fingers curling into his hair.</p>
<p>Craig sighs, worried that this cutie might not be up to his high standards for his work. Craig can only see a bit of Tweak’s desk, but it’s completely covered in haphazard papers, pencils, pens and a mixture of china cups and take out cups stacked into a pyramid. The guy’s a mess. <i>A hot mess,</i> his mind supplies unhelpfully, but still a mess.</p>
<p>If Tweak really is as incapable as he appears, Craig’ll get in touch with his boss after this call and see if anyone else is available to work on the project. “Look, err, what’s your first name?”</p>
<p>Tweek cocks his head, slowly releasing his hands from his hair, “I thought you already knew that? You called me.”</p>
<p>“Only got your Zoom details,” Craig shrugs, “just feels weird to call a co-worker by their last time all the time, you know?”</p>
<p>“It’s Tweek,” the blond says, and for a moment, Craig wonders if this guy is all there or if his mind is floating around in space right now.</p>
<p>“Tweak…Tweak?” He checks.</p>
<p>“My first name is Tweek with two ‘ee’s,” the blond smiles, and Craig ignores the stupidity of his name because <i>holy fuck, that smile is so pure.</i></p>
<p> “Well, Tweek with two 'ee’s, it’s nice to meet you. We’ve been assigned to work on Hatch TVCS3/5. I’m the lead for this one. I have all the data, measurements and design pre-requisites for you to go over. Didn’t your supervisor tell you anything about this?”</p>
<p>Tweek shakes his head, looking so Goddamn sad about it that Craig can’t even be mad.</p>
<p>“Look, I’ll create a meeting and send you the files, okay?”</p>
<p>“Thanks Craig,” Tweek says, and it sounds like he means it.</p>
<p>Tweek’s voice is so soft and warm that Craig bites his lip not to say something back. Even if he did let a compliment slip, he’s sure Tweek would think he’s just being sarcastic. His naturally nasally, flat tone tends to sounds pretty one-note to everyone outside the Tucker family. He’s lost count of the amount of people telling him he should blow his nose.</p>
<p>“So, Tweek, any experience with concept art and life-size models?” Craig asks as he uploads the necessary files.</p>
<p>It’s like a switch is flipped as Tweek suddenly looks like a kid in a candy store, “For my last project, I sculpted a giant moon of Enceladus, that one was really interesting,” Tweek’s positively rocking in his seat and Craig wonders, not the first time since this call started, how this guy isn’t straight out of college.</p>
<p>He’s fucking adorable.</p>
<p>“They let me adjust the design for the shooting water-vapor plumes so they looked more like the <i>Morning’s Thief</i> geyser. I  timed the release cycle to match typical eruptions of that geyser over the last decade, combined with special lighting to make sure visitors could <i>feel</i> the eruption!”</p>
<p>Now, Craig can’t deny that sounds pretty fucking cool.</p>
<p>“Oh, and my art has been on display in several museums! I have a project I’m working on right now. Here, let me show you!”</p>
<p>Tweek holds up some of his scattered papers and Craig allows his jaw to drop. Each one is merely a sketch, but the details are so clear and precise. The spacesuit really comes to life in all the drawings. There’s so many angles and positions. Every cord, every patch. Craig can see it all.</p>
<p>“They’re amazing, Tweek. You’re….you’re amazing.”</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~i n p u t ~*</p>
<p>Tweek knows he’s blushing. He <i>has</i> to be. It’s just, being told “you’re amazing” by the most handsome guy you’ve ever seen is bound to give you goosebumps.</p>
<p>Craig Tucker is fine. He’s the finest fine of all fine. Even his monotone voice is pretty sexy, and Tweek can’t believe he’s keeping it together for this call.</p>
<p><i>Because this is for work,</i> he scolds himself. <i>And it’s totally unprofessional to drool over your co-worker.</i></p>
<p>Craig disappears off-screen to go do something or other and leave Tweek to read through his files in peace. Tweek can tell right away that Craig’s organized and technical. His notes are clear and his measurements are so precise, even for the tiny model he’s working on. Every little addition is there for a reason, and compared to some saga-length documents he’s perused before from other engineers that left him scratching his head in confusion, Craig’s work is straightforward and to the point.</p>
<p>It’s also brilliant.</p>
<p>So when Craig returns, Tweek looks into his sharp emerald eyes and tells him so.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ l o a d i n g ~*</p>
<p>Craig’s awoken the next morning by Stripe’s wheeking. She wants to get out and stretch her legs around Craig’s cardboard obstacle course. She’s a smart girl, and always manages to find the carrot and cucumber pieces he leaves out for her.</p>
<p>His mind keeps replaying the “you’re brilliant!” from Tweek yesterday. It isn’t often that praise gets to him, but Tweek’s talented and gorgeous. It’s a dangerous combo when you’re single and lonely.</p>
<p><i>He’s also your co-worker,</i> he thinks sadly, <i>so get your shit together.</i></p>
<p>They’ve decided to schedule their video conferences to one o’clock to allow Tweek to continue working on his side project throughout the morning. Craig uses the time to catch up on e-mails and other responsibilities.</p>
<p>The morning drags on slowly. By the time Craig’s tucking into his boring egg sandwich lunch, he’s counting down the minutes until he can call Tweek. He doesn’t want to look too eager by calling way before the agreed time. He idly wonders if Tweek’s as beautiful in person as he is on screen?</p>
<p>Would his hair be soft or spiky? Would his eyes be more hazel or blue? Would his milky skin be smooth under Craig’s fingertips if he fixed the bottom half of his shirt buttons?</p>
<p>Craig’s wearing his favorite 'work meeting' shirt today; his shiny hair is brushed back and styled. Even though Tweek can’t smell the cologne he dots onto his wrists, he’s sure he’ll notice the effect. Craig looks put together, but there’s an undercurrent of anxiety. He doesn’t even know Tweek’s preferences and he’s already trying to catch his attention.</p>
<p><i>God, I hope I’m not making a fool of myself</i>.</p>
<p>It hits one o’clock and Craig makes the call, excitement running through his veins. They’re talking about door options today – not the most interesting part of the project but certainly vital to its success – but it could be the most boring thing on the face of the Earth and Craig would still want to discuss it with the neurotic blond.</p>
<p>“Hi Tweek.” Craig makes sure to use the smile he’s practised in the mirror that morning.</p>
<p>The shy smile he gets in return makes it all worth it. “Hi Craig.”</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ s y n c ~*</p>
<p>The lockdown enters its third week. Everything gets just that bit more difficult. Online orders are limited and often delayed. Tinned and canned groceries are like gold dust. The only handwash Craig can get is an odd limited-edition scent, but he’s grateful to have it. It’s amazing how quickly you realize you take something so mundane for granted.</p>
<p>The only thing that gets easier is talking to Tweek.</p>
<p>The two of them have gotten more comfortable with each other as the days have gone by. They always keep their discussions on the project and Tweek welcomes the critiques Craig gives to his designs. Craig also takes his observations into account, looking into a full lock frame based on Tweek’s calculations. Everything between them is – as it should be – strictly professional.</p>
<p>So, Craig wonders why he feels increasingly disappointed. It’s great that he gets on with Tweek, and Tweek is a capable and reliable colleague. That should be more than enough.</p>
<p>But it isn’t.</p>
<p>Tweek’s very pretty. Craig knew from the moment he’d seen his fluffy blond hair and freckled nose that he was his type. If he’d bumped into him in the street, he’d probably have asked for his number at the very least.</p>
<p>But the thing is…their relationship is work-based. Tweek’s communicating with him because he <i>has</i> to. And even if he thinks Tweek’s giving him <i>signals</i>, Craig can’t be sure it isn’t just his hopeless, desperate gay-self making something out of nothing.</p>
<p>Still, every time Tweek greets him with that shy smile and those warm eyes, Craig falls for him all over again.</p>
<p>He lets out a sigh and clicks on the button.</p>
<p>“Afternoon, Tweek.”</p>
<p>“Hi Craig,” Tweek waves as he answers their one o’clock Zoom call. “How was your weekend?”</p>
<p>“Productive,” Craig says, studying Tweek’s face in the soft glow of his living space. His skin is pale and smooth, spot-free unlike Craig’s own face, but his eyes are creased and purple. Tweek looks perpetually tired, and Craig wonders if he’s having difficulty sleeping. “Yours?”</p>
<p>Craig isn’t a natural worrier, but Tweek’s the sort of guy you can’t help but worry about.</p>
<p>“I ran out of coffee yesterday,” Tweek groans, “I couldn’t even get hold of the shitty stuff. I mean, Peet’s French Roast Coffee is my preferred brew, but you take what you can get, right? And- Craig, oh my God, is…is that?”</p>
<p>Tweek’s looking at the completed model sitting on Craig’s desk. It’s partially visible on the webcam, but Craig hadn’t expected it to drawn any attention. Well, not to a non-fan at least.</p>
<p>“Craig, are you shitting me? Is that the limited-edition Tamiya Red Racer kit?”</p>
<p><i>No. Fucking. Way.</i> Tweek recognizes the model?!</p>
<p>Craig doesn’t like to project his nerdiness if he can help it. He’s always been the “space geek” amongst his friends, although they were all so proud of him getting a job with NASA. But they never really understood his obsession with model kits, something they all grew out of as young adults.</p>
<p>“It is,” Craig says proudly, “<i>this</i> was my productive weekend. It’s a stunner,” he moves the model car into full view, “so, you into models too, Tweek?”</p>
<p>“I loved them as a kid,” Tweek says, “had a lot of Revell kits. Whoa, that’s so cool, Craig.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Craig can’t believe Tweek’s actually interested in his nerdy hobby, “yeah, I still buy Revell kits. I prefer the Germany kits for the quality, but I wish they’d change their shitty boxes.”</p>
<p>Tweek actually laughs at that, “Those dumb end-opening boxes? It’s impossible to get the kit back in!”</p>
<p>“Right? I always got so mad at the design. They have some well-priced kits though. But this one…I had to spend the extra bucks. Red Racer was my favorite show for years.”</p>
<p>Tweek looks away shyly, “Sometimes, I still watch it. I remember it was huge when I was eight or nine.”</p>
<p>“Hey, no judging here,” Craig grins, “I was the very definition of a super fan. I still have all the shirts and merchandise. A lot of it’s back home in storage, but I took a few special pieces with me when I moved out.”</p>
<p>“A super fan, huh?” Tweek smiles, “I’d never have guessed you were into something like that.”</p>
<p>“You mean something so…dorky?”</p>
<p>“Nothing wrong with that,” Tweek shrugs, curling a lock of hair around his finger, “It’s better to have a hobby that makes you happy. Besides, I’m a bit of a dork myself. My weekends are dedicated to jigsaws, board games and practising anime theme tunes on my keyboard.”</p>
<p>“Ahh, but you’re musical, so that tones down the overall effect of your dorkiness,” Craig teases, whilst secretly thinking, <i>shit, he’s a musician? That’s fucking hot</i>, “so, I win!”</p>
<p>Tweek’s quick to bite back, “I used to pretend to be a weather mage. I made myself a headband and everything. I butchered a Sailor Moon catchphrase and called myself Wonder Tweek. So…number one dork, right here.”</p>
<p>“Hey, I played super heroes too,” Craig smirks, “I drew an S onto a sheet of paper, stuck it to my chest and punched people with my super strength. I flipped them off too. So of course, the only name fitting for such a hero was…Super Craig. Simple yet effective. Even then, I really didn’t give a fuck, but I <i>was</i> the closet geeky kit.”</p>
<p>They look at each other for a moment, suppressing grins, before Tweek bursts into laughter. “That’s brilliant, Craig! You must have been such a precocious kid!”</p>
<p>Craig chuckles with him, “I was a cheeky shit. I think Super Craig and Wonder Tweek would have been a great duo.”</p>
<p>“Well, we’re working well together so far,” Tweek adds happily, “speaking of, Super Craig, we better get to work.”</p>
<p>“Roger that, Wonder Tweek.”</p>
<p>Craig moves his model back to safety, a strange fluttery feeling in his chest. He wants to talk and smile and laugh more with Tweek. </p>
<p>
  <i>Fuck.</i>
</p>
<p>If he hadn’t realized he was gay as a pre-teen, he’s pretty sure Tweek would have been his awakening.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ t r o u b l e s h o o t i n g ~*</p>
<p>A few days later, Tweek has to force himself out of bed. It had been a long, restless night. He never sleeps that well anyway, but a persistent headache woke him up at 2am and has yet to go away. He’s running on about an hour’s decent rest at this point.</p>
<p>The meds must be wearing off again as the pulsing over his right eye steadily worsens. Craig’ll be calling anytime, and he wants to look as sharp and ready as he always does.</p>
<p>The apathetic engineer with a nerdy side doesn’t feel so much of a stranger anymore, and Tweek enjoys their little chats. Craig’s easy to work with and even easier on the eyes. Tweek’s grateful to be paired up with him for the project, but it does mean that when Craig initiates contact, the focus is always on work.</p>
<p>Tweek tells himself he’s fine with that. Lately though, he’s not so sure. He wishes he could ask Craig more personal questions. Where did he graduate? What’s his family like? Does he have a partner? Does he need some help taking off those tailored-shirts?</p>
<p><i>Ahhh, if only.</i> Tweek presses the heel of his hand over his right eye, willing the pain to go away as well as the thoughts. Craig’s a co-worker, nothing more. They have a job to do, and feelings will only get in the way. </p>
<p>Right on time, Craig makes the call. Tweek joins as fast as his trigger finger lets him, putting on his best smile. He realizes he’s failed spectacularly when he notices the concern on Craig’s face.</p>
<p>“Hi Twe-oh, Tweek, are you okay?”</p>
<p>It isn’t worth lying to Craig, so Tweek slowly shakes his aching head. “Headache. Kept me up last night.”</p>
<p>“That sucks,” Craig says sympathetically, “do you want to reschedule? Go lie down for a bit?”</p>
<p>
  <i>And miss the chance to talk to you? No thanks.</i>
</p>
<p>He isn’t feeling up to any drawings or deep discussions, so they go over a materials list for the life-size hatch model.</p>
<p>After a couple of hours, Tweek’s vision starts going funny. At first, he rubs at his laptop screen, but the blurs don’t go away. It’s a shame to distort Craig’s lovely face. He rubs at his eyes and Craig stops talking.</p>
<p>There’s a weird buzzing noise that reminds him of his parents’ old dial up internet. How strange. His eyes flutter and his ears ring, and there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He mumbles some unintelligible nonsense before his exhausted body gives in.</p>
<p>“Tweek, I think we should pause it here for today…” Craig’s concerned tone seems even further away than usual. The panicked <i>“Tweek…Tweek?!”</i> that follows is the last thing Tweek hears before he slips off his chair.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ r e b o o t ~*</p>
<p>“Shit, oh my God,” Craig rises to his feet, “Tweek, wake up!”</p>
<p>It all happens so quickly that Craig forgets to breathe. The blond isn’t visible on the webcam anymore and Craig can’t do <i>anything</i>. He prays Tweek didn’t hit his head on anything when he fell down.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Craig reaches for his phone, keeping a close eye on the Zoom window, “fuck, alright, stay with me, Tweek. I’m going to ask my supervisor to send the emergency services to your home address. Okay?”</p>
<p>He’s part-way through a garbled voicemail message when a groggy Tweek pulls himself back into his chair.</p>
<p>“S-sorry. I’m a bit…woozy,” Tweek apologizes, his eyes periodically fluttering closed, “<i>nngn</i> don’t need an ambulance, man.”</p>
<p>“You just fainted on me, Tweek!” Craig’s heart is still racing. He slowly lowers himself back onto his seat.</p>
<p>Tweek looks a little sheepish, “No, I didn’t, um. I was just…rebooting?”</p>
<p>Craig raises an eyebrow, “Dude, seriously? <i>Seriously</i>?! You scared me to <i>fucking</i> death.”</p>
<p>“You were…worried about me?” Tweek looks genuinely surprised, rubbing the back of his head. He feels sluggish and weak. Maybe he misheard Craig? It’s not like there’s a lot of people who give a shit about his well-being.</p>
<p>“Yes, Tweek,” Craig’s just as surprised at his honesty as Tweek is. Craig’s the first to admit that he isn’t the sort of person to feel strongly about anything.</p>
<p>He’s lived his life in comfortable-if-boring moderation, never reaching the adoring highs and depressing lows his friends have experienced.</p>
<p><i>Friends, hmm</i>?</p>
<p>“O-oh, that’s-” Tweek fidgets, at a loss for words.</p>
<p>“I consider you…a friend, Tweek,” Craig cuts in, unable to ignore the drooping, exhausted eyes and stifled yawns that Tweek’s desperate to hide, “Now for the love of God, take some medicine and go to sleep! I’ll call you tomorrow. If you don’t pick up, I really will send help. Goodnight.”</p>
<p>He ends the call before Tweek can even begin to protest. His heart’s still beating wildly in his chest and his face feels slightly warm.</p>
<p><i>Fuck</i>.</p>
<p>He’d better not be getting sick, too.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ s a f e m o d e ~*</p>
<p>By the end of the first month of lockdown, Craig and Tweek have fallen into a comfortable friendship that Tweek appreciates more than anything.</p>
<p>He can’t bring himself to admit that he’s both sad and incredibly flustered that Craig has finally ditched the dashing shirts and high-waisted black trousers and now wears lounge pants and a NASA hoodie during their calls.</p>
<p>Craig’s typical swearing and grumbling gradually pepper his conversations, and it’s so mesmerizing to hear Craig discussing the project in such technical detail whilst cussing like a trooper.</p>
<p>Tweek finds himself trying to think of ways to prolong their discussions. He wants to know more about Craig. So far, he knows he likes model kits and Red Racer. He’s blunt, pragmatic and sarcastic with a head for numbers. But what about the small things? What does he like to eat? What does he watch or read? What’s his <i>sexuality</i>?</p>
<p>Tweek’s seen how Craig looks at him. He’s sure he’s looking at Craig the same way. Despite being connected only by video call, Tweek thinks they’re gradually closing the distance between them with every conversation.</p>
<p>So, once it hits five, he prepares himself to ask if Craig want to keep talking. The mood’s good right now, and there’s so many questions on the tip of Tweek’s tongue…</p>
<p>…But they all die in his throat when he sees a flash of brown running behind Craig’s chair.</p>
<p>“<i>Gah</i>,” Tweek tips his seat forwards, “Craig! I think there’s a rat in your apartment, man!”</p>
<p>Craig just frowns, adjusting the blue chullo he’s worn for the duration of their chat today.</p>
<p>Tweek’s appalled at himself when he idly wonders if Craig would ever let him pull on the flaps. Craig is the sort of guy who really suits hats, and when he’d donned this one for the first time the previous day, Tweek had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom, face beet red. He’d never imaged he’d have some sort of weird kink for clothing.</p>
<p>“I think I saw a rat,” Tweek repeats, keeping his eyes peeled for the creature’s reappearance.</p>
<p>Instead of freaking out, Craig actually starts smiling. A low, bordering-on-sexy rumble of laughter falls from his lips and Tweek can’t look away.</p>
<p>“Craig, this is serious!” Tweek swallows around the lump in his throat. “You need to call pest control. Oh, shit, I bet they can’t come out right now. Jesus-”</p>
<p>“Tweek, calm down,” Craig bends down out of view, “it isn’t a rat. This is Stripe.” When he returns into view, Craig is holding a fluffy brown and white guinea pig against his chest. “She’s been exercising and must have strayed a bit too far. Sorry for the scare.”</p>
<p>Stripe nestles into Craig’s hoodie and it’s just the cutest darned thing. “She’s cute,” Tweek coos, “how old is she?”</p>
<p>“She turns three this year,” Craig says proudly, “she’s an adventurous girl and really smart, too. She’s good company; even more so now we can’t go out.”</p>
<p>“Oh? So, you live alone, too?” Tweek perks up at this, “No girlfriend? Boyfriend? Roommate?”</p>
<p>Craig shakes his head, “Nope. Just me and Stripe.”</p>
<p>“Sounds cozy,” Tweek grins, taking a sip of coffee, “I wish I had someone to keep me company.”</p>
<p>“Ah, well,” Craig looks back up into Tweek’s eyes as he softly strokes Stripe, “you’d be more than welcome to come here to meet her sometime, if you’d like? When all this <i>shit</i> is over, I mean.”</p>
<p>“I’d like that,” Tweek shares a smile of his own, entranced by how gently Craig is handling the little pig.</p>
<p>“Hey, do you have any free time tonight?” Craig asks, petting Stripe’s ears, “We can, you know…talk some more?”</p>
<p>Tweek tries not to come across too eager, “I’d like that, too.”</p>
<p>“Great,” Craig nuzzles his nose into Stripe’s soft fur and she makes a happy-sounding squeak, “just give me two mins, I’ll put Stripe back into her cage. I think she’s done enough exploring for today.”</p>
<p>“Sure,” Tweek nods, “bye Stripe.”</p>
<p>Craig disappears with his precious piggy in his arms and Tweek starts spinning full circles in his office chair.</p>
<p>
  <i>So cute, so cute, so cute!</i>
</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ u p g r a d e ~*</p>
<p>When Craig gets back, they settle into an easy conversation about life in lockdown. Tweek laments at being unable to go out for a coffee and watch dogs running around the park, whilst Craig misses taking scenic photographs and going stargazing on the hills.</p>
<p>They get onto their family and friends, too. Tweek spots the quirk of a smile when Craig mentions Token, Clyde and Jimmy, and in turn, he tells Craig about Jason, Timmy and Wendy.</p>
<p>“Token probably has more in stock than the supermarkets right now,” Craig grins, “not because he’s a hoarder, though. His place is huge and they’re always entertaining. Then there’s Clyde’s sniffling about being stuck with tins of baked beans and corned beef from his dad.”</p>
<p>“Jesus, did he leave it too late?”</p>
<p>“Well, it’s his own fault. I told him to go and get some supplies and he waved it off,” Craig chuckles, popping open a can of Miller Lite, “He kept sending me photos of empty shelves until he literally had a break down in what I think <i>was</i> the toilet paper aisle.”</p>
<p>Tweek grasps at hair, able to imagine the panic.</p>
<p>Craig chuckles, “I love him, but he’s an idiot. He’ll be fine; Kenny’ll probably drop some stuff off for him, so he won’t starve.”</p>
<p>“It’s shitty that so many people are buying in bulk,” Tweek says, turning to look at his kitchenette, “I was hoping I could take advantage of quarantine and get back into baking, but it’s hard to find the ingredients. Thank God instacart delievered.”</p>
<p>“You bake?” Craig asks, looking impressed, “What, like croissants or something?”</p>
<p>“<i>Nngh</i> not croissants,” Tweek shakes his head, “cupcakes mostly.”</p>
<p>Craig looks thoughtful for a moment. “Are they hard to make?”</p>
<p>“Not all of them. There’s a simple vanilla recipe I like that anyone can do!” Tweek tries hard to tone down his excitement. Baking is one of his favorite pastimes, and one that is well-suited to being stuck indoors. “Craig, do you like baking?”</p>
<p>“I like <i>eating</i> baked goods,” Craig’s wry smile sets Tweek’s pulse racing, “I’ve loosely ‘helped’ Tricia before, but baking’s not really my forté.”</p>
<p>Tweek’s bouncing in his seat, “Cupcakes are super simple, Craig. You could totally make them if you tried.”</p>
<p>“Well…”</p>
<p>“I know,” Tweek sits up straight, the perfect idea coming to him, “let’s try baking some right now. I can teach you!”</p>
<p>“You would?” Craig sounds part-intrigued, part-hopeful, “I better check my cupboards first. Don’t get your hopes up. What do I need?”</p>
<p>“The usual staples,” Tweek grins, excited for them to try something so <i>couply</i> together, then he reels off the ingredients by heart, “flour, sugar, butter, eggs, milk, baking powder, salt and vanilla extract or essence.”</p>
<p>Tweek watches Craig stand up to check his kitchenette for the ingredients, unashamedly ogling his rear as he bends down to check his lower cabinets just in view of the webcam.</p>
<p>“Think I’ve got everything,” Craig returns to his screen with a triumphant smile, “but there’s only three eggs left. Is that enough?”</p>
<p>“Yep, we only need two. Hang on, I’m going to move my laptop nearer to the kitchen.”</p>
<p>Tweek unplugs his cable and moves to set up in the kitchenette. He assumes Craig is doing the same as he catches a flash of his firm, tanned bicep, free of the hoodie. He bites his lip as he imagines how firm and supple Craig is. One of Tweek’s secret dirty little fantasies is to be pinned down and ravished by Craig whilst he pulls on the flaps of his ragged chullo.</p>
<p><i>Shit, I’m so fucked,</i> he groans, placing his laptop on the counter. He’s going to make the most of the evening.</p>
<p>“Now, we need to get out the right equipment. Do you have an electric mixer Craig?”</p>
<p>Craig shakes his head, “Never thought I’d need one. Is that a problem?”</p>
<p>“Nope. We’ll make them by hand. It takes longer, and it’s a bit more effort, but it’s worth it. Trust me.”</p>
<p>Tweek gives Craig what he hopes is a winning smile. “You ready, Craig?”</p>
<p>“I’m ready.”</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ b a c k u p ~*</p>
<p>Craig isn’t ready.</p>
<p>Not for that beautiful fucking smile at least. He bites his lip, eyes flicking to the corner of his laptop screen. It’s nearly six thirty – a good hour later than when their work conversations typically end. It’s surreal, being able to talk to Tweek like this. And now he’s getting ready to bake cupcakes of all things. <i>The</i> Craig Tucker is making glorified fairy cakes.</p>
<p>Could he be any <i>more</i> gay for Tweek?</p>
<p>He follows Tweek’s instructions as best he can. Tweek has a set of scales and weighs out his ingredients precisely in grams, translating the weights into cups for Craig, who honestly feels out of his comfort zone.</p>
<p>It’s funny how their roles have switched in the kitchen. Tweek’s the one being logical and taking exact measurements, and Craig’s haphazardly throwing cups into his bowl.</p>
<p>They beat their mixtures with matching wooden spoons, Tweek making it look effortless even with his skinny arms. He’s managed to cover his face and hair with flour despite taking the precaution of wearing an apron – and God, Craig hopes he’s going to be dreaming about that apron later – and it’s just the cutest thing.</p>
<p>He’s so fixated on watching Tweek fill his cupcake liners, his tongue poking out as he concentrates, that he drops some of his mixture down his front.</p>
<p>“Ah, shit!” He tries to wipe it off, and attracts Tweek’s attention.</p>
<p>“Making a mess, Craig?” Tweek snorts. “You could just take it off.”</p>
<p>Craig freezes.</p>
<p>Tweek freezes too.</p>
<p>It’s as if their laptops have frozen at the same time. Which would be funny, if that hadn’t been the sexiest thing Craig’s had directed at him in years.</p>
<p>Craig recovers first, “What did you-?”</p>
<p>“I mean, you can wash it off,” Tweek rambles, unable to look at Craig directly, “under the faucet. With a stain remover. Yeah. That will take it off easy…”</p>
<p>“Ok,” Craig nods, “…thanks.”</p>
<p>They fill the rest of their liners in silence. Craig keeps peeking at his screen to see if Tweek is looking at him. The blond’s pale face is red, so he knows exactly what he said, and Craig would be lying if he denied being horny as fuck right now.</p>
<p>“How long do we bake them for?” Craig asks, praying that Tweek won’t shut down on him now that he’s clearly embarrassed.</p>
<p>“About eighteen minutes,” Tweek confirms, his cheeks still a pretty shade of pink, “I’ve put my timer on for fifteen and then we can use a toothpick or a fork to check if they’re done.”</p>
<p>Craig’s the first to admit he struggles with small talk, and for a moment he fears they’ll stand around in silence for fifteen minutes. He’s pleasantly surprised to see Tweek looking at him again.</p>
<p>“So, why a guinea pig?” Tweek asks casually, sounding genuinely curious.</p>
<p>Now this is a subject Craig can talk about, “They’re sweet tempered and bright,” he says, drawing on his lifetime ownership of such adorable pets. “They like cuddles and being active. It’s fun to watch them explore and play in their nests or with toys. They’re pretty affection too; Stripe is my fourth pig and she loves attention-” Tweek’s soft giggle stops Craig’s rambles, “What’s so funny?”</p>
<p>“You,” Tweek wipes at his damp eyes with his sleeve, “I never imagined that the stoic Craig Tucker would have a soft spot for small, cute and cuddly!”</p>
<p>
  <i>Small, cute and cuddly.</i>
</p>
<p>Craig rakes his eyes over Tweek’s body, conceding that he fits the description nicely.</p>
<p>“You could say I have a type,” he smirks, “nothing wrong with that.”</p>
<p>Tweek’s eyes widen suddenly, as if he’s just realized something. He simply whispers back, “Nothing wrong with that at all.”</p>
<p>In what feels like seconds later, Tweek’s timer starts beeping.</p>
<p>He clears his throat, “Time to check the cupcakes.”</p>
<p>Craig stabs the middle of his cupcakes with a fork. It doesn’t come out clean, so Tweek advises they both put them back in the oven.</p>
<p>Three minutes later, they both check their creations again. This time, they’re ready, so Craig lines them up on his chopping board, whilst Tweek has a wire cooling rack.</p>
<p>Twenty minutes later, when the cakes are finally cool enough to ice or eat, Craig’s sat watching Tweek as he gently squeezes his piping bag. Naturally, all his thoughts go down the gutter. He’s hard in his sweat pants as he imagines Tweek’s talented hands bringing him relief. It takes everything he has not to touch himself.</p>
<p>
  <i>Fuck, Tweek. Fuck you. I want to fuck you so bad.</i>
</p>
<p>He hasn’t got any powdered sugar, so Craig decides to leave his cupcakes plain. He’s waiting for Tweek to finish decorating his so that they can eat together.</p>
<p>Tweek’s icing is so neat and pretty. The swirls are firm and uniform, and he finishes them off with some sort of edible iridescent powder so they sparkle.</p>
<p>“Yours look so good, Tweek,” Craig praises, comparing his own naked, wonky cupcakes. There’s no competition really.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Tweek swipes a finger over some spilt icing and sucks it off in a way that makes Craig squirm in his seat, more grateful than ever that his lower half is hidden from the camera. “But it’s the taste that’s the most important. <i>Tuck</i> in, Tucker!”</p>
<p>With their laptops in front of them, it’s as if they’re sitting across from each other. Craig takes a bite and is surprised that it’s edible. In fact, it’s delicious.</p>
<p>“This is…” he swallows, “wow, Tweek. It’s so good! I mean it.”</p>
<p>“Told you so,” Tweek says cheekily, munching on one of his own professional-looking cupcakes. “Easy, right?”</p>
<p>Craig shakes his head, “They’ve never tasted this good when I’ve used a recipe book. You’re a good teacher, Tweek.”</p>
<p>“Well, you’re a good listener, Craig,” Tweek returns the compliment. “Thanks for going along with it. That’s the most fun I’ve had in a while.”</p>
<p>“Same,” Craig finishes his cupcake in another two bites. “I suppose we’d better clean up.”</p>
<p>Tweek turns to look at his own messy kitchenette. “Yeah. Sorry for taking over your evening, Craig.”</p>
<p>“Don’t apologize,” Craig shrugs, “I wouldn’t have stayed on if I didn’t want to.”</p>
<p>Tweek takes longer to finish eating his cupcake, and when he’s done, they just sit and stare at each other. Craig doesn’t want to end the call just yet, but he has no idea what to say. It’s nearly eight o’clock now, and he’ll have to check on Stripe shortly, but it takes all of his willpower to say goodbye to those warm eyes and that soft smile.</p>
<p>“So, uh, enjoy your cakes,” he says, trying not to make it awkward, “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time, same place.”</p>
<p>Tweek nods, stretching over to hang up their call. “Yep, that’s right. Goodnight, Craig.”</p>
<p>“Goodnight, babe,” Craig whispers back before the call ends, not realizing until it’s too late and the screen has gone blank that Tweek probably heard that.</p>
<p>
  <i>Wait. What? What the fuck did I just say???</i>
</p>
<p>He pulls his chullo over his eyes.</p>
<p>Well. That’s that.</p>
<p>He can no longer pretend that he isn’t completely infatuated with Tweek fucking Tweak.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ b u r n ~*</p>
<p>“Goodnight, babe,” Craig’s husky voice melts in Tweek’s ears.</p>
<p>Tweek can’t tear his eyes away from his blank laptop screen, as if by wishing hard enough, he’ll still be able to see Craig.</p>
<p>“Did…did he just call me <i>babe</i>?”</p>
<p>Tweek lets out the most undignified squeal.</p>
<p>They’re quickly blurring some lines with their relationship, and the speed of the progression both excites and frightens Tweek. He’d expected a fairly quiet-bordering-on-lonely time during the social distancing period.</p>
<p>As long as he had his projects and coffee, he figured he’d make the best of the situation. Tweek isn’t a loner, but he finds it easy to move through life with just his own company. He’s made his peace with being alone. He supposes his upbringing plays a part in his mindset; Tweek was an independent, only child with free-spirited, emotionally unavailable parents.</p>
<p>Now, thanks to global quarantine, he’s found someone he’d like to get to know better.</p>
<p>Craig Tucker is his opposite in so many ways, but the more he finds out about the outwardly apathetic yet internally soft engineer, the more Tweek wishes they could talk outside of work on a regular basis. </p>
<p>Tweek has never met a guy as interesting, driven and hot as Craig. Tweek’s biggest fear is Craig losing interest in him, especially with no end in sight for lockdown at present. What if Craig tires of him after working closely together, five days a week, for the foreseeable future?</p>
<p>
  <i>But…he called me babe!</i>
</p>
<p>Tweek forces himself to have an early night, his thoughts all jumbled as he dreams about a pair of deep, piercing green eyes.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ s y s t e m e r r o r ~*</p>
<p>“I think Clyde’s been hit the hardest,” Craig says seriously once the clock hits ten past five. He didn’t even need to ask Tweek if he wanted to stay on call. The adorable blond just launched into a personal conversation, dragging Craig along for the ride. Not that he minds at all. He couldn’t be happier to share more with his colleague-turned-friend.</p>
<p>And <i>if</i> Craig gets the chance to turn whatever their current relation is into something more, he will.</p>
<p>Tweek hasn’t mentioned the ‘babe’ comment all day, so maybe he didn’t hear it after all. Craig doesn’t know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.</p>
<p>“He sounds pretty sociable,” Tweek nods, “and being trapped inside all day can get to you.”</p>
<p>Craig understands the feeling, although he has been going out for walks. “He’s desperate to hit the gym. I think he’s going stir crazy in his apartment. He’s been sending me memes from the last decade for the past hour.”</p>
<p>Seriously, at this point Craig wishes there was a lockdown on social media. He’s trying to avoid all the unnecessary dramas popping up, but at least he can stay connected to his circle of trusted friends. He’s still figuring out how to approach Tweek to ask for his details, but he doesn’t want to pressure the guy. Tweek comes across as introverted and private. The fact that he’s opening up to Craig after work is enough for now.</p>
<p> “And how’re you managing?” Tweek asks, “I’m definitely not gym material!”</p>
<p>“I have a membership, but I’m not that fussed,” Craig shrugs, flexing his arms just to show off, “I’m going out for a walk once a day, then using the fire escape stairs in my building for an extra workout. I’m sick of seeing the same fucking ugly carpet, but hey, free cardio!”</p>
<p>“Urgh, you’ve got the 70s office carpet too, then,” Tweek groans with understanding, “I swear, it must have been the cheapest option when furnishing this town.”</p>
<p>Craig laughs at that, “Wouldn’t surprise me. You’re Downtown too?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I moved into this building in…October or November. I’ve been hitting the stairs too, but I’m always nervous I’ll run into someone, so I go at like five am! And I sanitise the banisters and door handles every time I’m out. Mostly I’ve been practising yoga.”</p>
<p>Craig swallows at that. He can imagine Tweek in leggings and loose shirts. “I’ve never tried yoga,” he admits. “You, uh, well…I’ve always fancied giving it a go. Would you be up for showing me some moves?”</p>
<p>For a moment, Tweek doesn’t say anything. He tilts his head thoughtfully, then smirks at Craig. “You want to see me in my workout clothes that badly, Tucker?”</p>
<p>Craig’s glad he hadn’t taken a swig of his water or he’d probably have spewed it all over his screen. He likes this side of Tweek. He’s confident and comfortable in his own skin. It’s <i>sexy</i>. “I can’t say the thought hadn’t crossed my mind.”</p>
<p>Tweek laughs at that, appreciating Craig’s honesty, “Well, I don’t blame you. They do make me look like a total <i>babe</i>.”</p>
<p>The way Tweek says it, Craig knows he heard him last night. Those hazel-blue eyes are smouldering right now, and Craig holds back on being dirty, just in case it puts Tweek off. But God, this sort of teasing is going to <i>finish</i> him.</p>
<p>“Give me a minute, I’ll get changed,” the blond chuckles, disappearing from the screen.</p>
<p>Craig downs his water, but he’s still sweating. He takes the opportunity to change into a looser pair of sweatpants and white tee, half hard in his underwear as he imagines Tweek bending and stretching in form-fitting clothes. He’s going to have to rub one out tonight if he’s going to get a wink of sleep.</p>
<p>Tweek reappears with his pink yoga mat dressed in <i>exactly</i> the sort of outfit Craig had been hoping for. His oversized orange tee is slipping off one shoulder, but it isn’t a button down, so his stomach is hidden away. His mint green leggings show off his slender legs and his feet are bare.</p>
<p>“Well, what do you think?” Tweek gives Craig a twirl, “I tend to wear these old things, but if it’s cold I wear socks and gloves as well.”</p>
<p>“You look great, Tweek,” Craig ignores the twitch in his pants, “Really, <i>really</i> great.”</p>
<p>“Only <i>great</i>?” Tweek pouts teasingly, stretching his arms above his head, “You’re not looking too shabby either. Well, let’s stretch first.”</p>
<p>Craig knows how to stretch and shows off a little as he matches Tweek’s movements. Once they’re sufficiently warmed up, Tweek stands on his mat.</p>
<p>“We’ll try some simple poses,” Tweek closes his eyes and breathes deeply, “just follow my lead.”</p>
<p>Craig doesn’t have a mat, but at least his living space is carpeted. “Okay.”</p>
<p>Tweek sticks out his bottom, legs straight, then folds his body over so he’s looking at his knees with his arms folded below his head. “This is <i>Uttanasana</i>, the Standing Forward Fold,” he says, “you can keep your hands on your thighs if it’s difficult.”</p>
<p>Craig follows along, feeling the burn in his muscles relatively early on. He finds Warrior 1 and Cobra easy enough, but by the time they try out Butterfly, he’s in awe of Tweek’s flexibility. He moves from pose to pose like a cat, patiently waiting for Craig and showing him easier versions of the poses when he gets stuck.</p>
<p>It’s more invigorating and relaxing than Craig thought, and not as sensual as he’d expected…then Tweek mentions Downward Facing Dog.</p>
<p>Craig releases his pose and sits down to watch. Tweek’s saying something about how this improves circulation and reduces stress, but honestly, Craig’s eyes are fixated on Tweek’s ass. Before he knows what he’s doing, his hand sinks into his underwear and he starts gently stroking himself.</p>
<p>“How’re you doing?” Tweek asks, unable to see Craig from his position. “Some people feel a bit dizzy at this point, since your head’s been upside down several times. If you need to take a breather, just holler.”</p>
<p>Craig’s breathing is erractic, but it hasn’t anything to do with the strenuous poses. He quickly withdraws his hand, ashamed of his lack of self-control. Now there’s an obvious tent in his trousers, and a wet patch is clearly visible on his pale grey sweats.</p>
<p>
  <i>Shit, shit, shit.</i>
</p>
<p>There’s no fucking way he can face Tweek right now. Craig slams his laptop lid closed, cheeks burning, and hobbles into his bathroom.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ d a e m o n ~*</p>
<p>“Now we can relax,” Tweek slowly reclines onto his mat, “this is Corpse Pose and,” he turns to look up at his screen. It’s gone blank. “Craig?”</p>
<p>Craig has ended the call.</p>
<p>“Fuck,” Tweek sits up sharply. He’s pushed Craig too far. It was <i>too</i> much <i>too</i> soon. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.</p>
<p>He fears he’s created a wall between them, all because he got thirsty and decided to be a fucking tease.</p>
<p>What the hell must Craig think of him now?</p>
<p>The worst part is that he has the entire weekend to stew over it. With a sigh, Tweek retrieves his mobile and dials the one person who can give him advice.</p>
<p>“Tweek! How’s it going with tall, dark and handsome?”</p>
<p>“I think I messed up Wendy,” Tweek collapses into his couch, pressing his knees against his chest, “I shouldn’t have tried it so early. Craig…hung up on me.”</p>
<p>Wendy pauses, “He did?”</p>
<p>“We were doing the poses, just like you said, and then right before <i>Savasana</i>-”</p>
<p>“Wait…he left the call during the poses?” Wendy interrupts, “Which was the one before that last one?”</p>
<p>“Downward Facing Dog,” Tweek admits, knowing he was playing with fire with that one.</p>
<p>Wendy chuckles on the other side of the phone. “That’s my Tweek. Did he say anything before he hung up?”</p>
<p>“Not that I heard. He’d been breathing hard, but it’s understandable. Some people don’t realize how strenuous some of the poses are.”</p>
<p>“Oh Tweek,” Wendy sounds like she knows something Tweek doesn’t, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, hun. Just keep it up. I think this Craig of yours is having a great time getting to know you.”</p>
<p>“What if this makes it awkward on Monday? I’m worried that I’m taking backwards steps here!”</p>
<p>Tweek really enjoys his banter with Craig. They’ve moved from friends into a zone he can’t even describe. What if this has ruined everything and Craig wants them to remain strictly professional?</p>
<p>“If this guy likes you Tweek, he won’t be put off by you showing off your cute butt. Trust me. But if you think you need to pull back for a bit, do that. Just…let him know you’re still interested, okay.”</p>
<p>“Okay… Thanks Wendy. Love you.”</p>
<p>“Love you more. Let me know how it goes next week. I promise you’ll have nothing to worry about.”</p>
<p>After ending the call, Tweek prepares himself a coffee – thank God for Timmy’s care package. He feels on edge and jumpy in his own skin. He opens up Spotify and fills the room with his playlist, taking deep breaths to center himself.</p>
<p>Then, feeling refreshed, he spends the evening with a pencil in hand. He starts off with good intentions to work on his museum pictures, but all he can think about is Craig’s hot, toned body stretched out in Cobra.</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ c o m p a t i b l e ~*</p>
<p>As Tweek predicted, Craig is back in work mode on Monday morning. They work through their plans, sending e-mails and analysing their data. When it finally hits five, Tweek has to say something.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry about, you know…the yoga.”</p>
<p>Craig flinches slightly, and Tweek regrets bringing it up at all, then he’s sighing in resignation. “Not your fault, Tweek. I’m sorry for ending the call so abruptly. Something came up…” <i>and yes, I mean that literally,</i> he wants to laugh at himself. That bastard Clyde must be rubbing off on him a little.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Tweek says a little dejectedly. Craig’s being politely evasive now, and it hurts more than he wants to admit. “I…I hope everything’s okay now?”</p>
<p>“It is,” Craig nods, “thank you.”</p>
<p>“Well, I better let you go-”</p>
<p>Craig coughs, “Actually, I wanted to ask if you had any plans this evening?”</p>
<p>Tweek had thought about watching a feel-good movie with snacks to cheer himself up if things went sour with Craig. Not that he’s admitting to that though.</p>
<p>“Not really. Just winding down with a movie.”</p>
<p>Craig fidgets in his seat a little, and now Tweek’s curious. “Maybe we could watch something together?” He suggests, his hands tugging at the flaps of his chullo as if he’s nervous.</p>
<p>“What?!” Tweek shrieks. After the yoga disaster, he’s surprised Craig’s actually up for spending more time with him. “You actually want to?”</p>
<p>Craig quickly retorts, “Don’t you?”</p>
<p>“No, I <i>do</i>, it’s just…I didn’t know if it would be awkward…” Tweek admits, scratching the back of his neck. “I thought I fucked up last week.”</p>
<p>“Tweek, I <i>like</i> you,” Craig says, and Tweek’s dying to ask what sort of like he means, “so of course I want to spend more time with you.”</p>
<p>“I like spending time with you too,” Tweek says shyly, “I’ve really been having fun: talking, baking, working out... You’re such a great guy, Craig. I don’t want us to lose whatever it is we have right now.”</p>
<p>“Me neither,” Craig agrees with a grin. “So, what do you think?”</p>
<p>“I think I’m going to microwave some popcorn,” Tweek smiles back, “anything you fancy watching?”</p>
<p>“Well, forgive the work connection, but I’m feeling ‘The Martian’.”</p>
<p>Tweek catches the genuinely happy smile on Craig’s usually stoic face. “Sounds good to me.”</p>
<p>Soon, the pair are relaxing into their couches with drinks and snacks at their feet and laptops resting on their thighs. ‘The Martian’ streams on their screens while they keep the conversation going on voice chat.</p>
<p>Even though Craig isn’t in the same room, Tweek feels warm and connected. They can’t see each other, but Craig’s nasally tone chips in from time to time, giving his own observations and opinions. When Tweek points something out, he responds.</p>
<p>It’s nice.</p>
<p>In a way, it’s almost like a virtual date. So, naturally, as they reach the end of the film, Tweek treats it as such, even if he can’t say it out loud.</p>
<p>“Thanks for tonight, Craig. That was a really good suggestion. We should definitely do it again.”</p>
<p>Craig hums, “We should. Hey…Tweek?”</p>
<p>“Yes Craig?”</p>
<p>“You looked fucking fantastic in your yoga clothes.”</p>
<p>Tweek nearly chokes on his last piece of popcorn.</p>
<p>“And I…had to deal with a little problem. That’s why I hung up like I did.”</p>
<p>There’s a few awkward minutes of silence over the voice chat whilst Tweek lets that admission sink it, then the credits start rolling. Neither of them dares to switch the movie off.</p>
<p>There’s something so unbelievably ridiculous about discussing tentative sexual feelings to Gloria Gaynor’s classic ‘I Will Survive’. The first time Tweek heard this song for the credits, he’d nearly pissed himself laughing.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Tweek simply says back, though he mentally berates himself. <i>Oh. Oh?! Say something else, you idiot!</i> “That’s…good?”</p>
<p>“Is it?” Craig asks, voice gravelly and serious, “Is it what you wanted?”</p>
<p>Tweek hardly knows what to say. This <i>is</i> what he wanted, in a way. All the personal conversations, the baking “date”, the staring deeply into each other’s eyes, the yoga lesson and movie night. He’s dreamed about it building to…something like this.</p>
<p>“Tweek?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I’m still here,” Tweek turns the volume down on the movie’s credits. “I’d <i>hoped</i> but-” he freezes up, unable to say the words rolling around in his head.</p>
<p>Craig speaks up instead, “You know, I thought about us a lot over the weekend. And…I think I know what I want.”</p>
<p><i>Please be me</i>, Tweek prays, gently putting his laptop onto the couch now that his legs are too jittery.</p>
<p>“This is all so fucking crazy. I mean, we haven’t even met in person and yet I can’t stop thinking about you,” Craig admits, and Tweek’s torn between wanting to see Craig’s face but hiding his own. The movie’s credits are still rolling, so that helps.</p>
<p>“Tweek, I…if you’re willing…I want to give <i>us</i> a try. I know meeting up is out of the question right now, but-”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Tweek interrupts, “yes, I’m willing! Craig, I really, really like you. I can’t wait until I can see you for real.”</p>
<p>Craig chuckles, “You’ve made my night, honey.”</p>
<p>“Craig,” Tweek can’t stop the smile on his face right now, “you know what this means, don’t you?”</p>
<p>“I can call you all the pet names I’ve been dreaming about?”</p>
<p>Tweek blushes, “Well, yeah, but what I meant was...we’re in an isolationship!”</p>
<p>“An isolationship?” Craig repeats in his huskier voice, “God babe, you’re so fucking adorable.”</p>
<p>“Can we switch back to video?”</p>
<p>Craig makes an affirmative noise. Tweek exits out of the finished film and returns to Zoom. He waits for Craig to appear, then gives him a shy wave.</p>
<p>“Hi,” his fingers grasp at his shirt, still reeling from the confession.</p>
<p>“Hey, honey,” Craig’s satisfied smile sends the butterflies in Tweek’s tummy into hyperdrive. “Talk about the best evening in quarantine <i>ever</i>.”</p>
<p>Tweek laughs, “Yeah, it’s turned out pretty good so far.”</p>
<p>“Maybe next time we have a yoga lesson, we can…help each other out?” Craig says suggestively, resting his head on his fist.</p>
<p>“I think I’d like that,” Tweek flushes at how forward Craig is, but God, just <i>thinking</i> about jacking off with Craig is enough to send him to the moon and back, “besides, I can’t let you have all the fun.”</p>
<p>“Baking dates, yoga dates, movie dates…we’ll mix it up until we can go out for a ‘date date’.”</p>
<p>“Sounds exciting,” Tweek agrees, “hey, you also live in Downtown, right? Which street?”</p>
<p>“Franklin.”</p>
<p>“No way, me too!” Tweek can’t believe his luck. Craig’s pretty close to him after all, “I’m always popping into Caffeina Bistro; it’s the nearest coffee shop to my apartment.”</p>
<p>“You don’t live in the Brownstone complex do you?” Craig asks suddenly, looking hopeful.</p>
<p>Tweek’s eyes widen, “How do you-”</p>
<p>Craig throws his head back and laughs, “Tweek! We live in the same <i>fucking</i> building!”</p>
<p>Tweek joins in, his higher pitched giggles harmonizing nicely with Craig's lower tone. There’s something so ridiculous about this situation. The world is on lockdown with people unable to go about their daily lives, and yet without it, he may never have met Craig, even though they both live and work in the same place. It’s fucking incredible.</p>
<p>“Well, handsome,” Tweek grins, pulling his laptop closer, “maybe I’ll drop by your door sometime.”</p>
<p>“I hope you do,” Craig says, hopeful of a visit in the near future, “in the meantime, babe, I’ll be waiting. One o’clock.”</p>
<p>“Of course,” Tweek beams, “same time, same place.”</p>
<p class="font-serif">*~ b o n u s ~*</p>
<p><i>Craig: He said yes</i>.</p>
<p>
  <i>Clyde: Guys, OMG! (*≧艸≦)</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Token: Congrats, man.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Jimmy: And they were zoommates!</i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you for giving this one a read. It was just self-indulgent silliness really. I've never written anything based off a prompt before, so that was interesting.</p>
<p>I'd love to know your thoughts on a creek isolationship?! Where will these dorky, infatuated guys go from here?! What do you think they could do for more dates?! :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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